


Buggy

by pulpriter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Back-to-fluff-again; AU/pulpverse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:49:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6378322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpriter/pseuds/pulpriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it seems like they are everywhere you look. And sometimes one comes out of nowhere.<br/>A silly spider story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buggy

**Author's Note:**

> Here you go, Brookwood—the story I was working on when you published yours ("Arachnophobia and Other Methods of Modern Flirtation") Thanks for your generosity regarding ideas. This is really the pleasantest fandom.  
> I don’t own these characters, they just keep crawling through my mind.  
> Please review, especially if this one bugs you.

A black taxi pulled up alongside the bijou house called Wardlow. Bert and Cec exited their cab, and strolled up to the back door and into the kitchen, where Mr. Butler was carefully preparing and packing food. “Looks like a picnic,” Bert observed.  
“Hello, gentlemen!” Mr. Butler said heartily. “Yes, it is a picnic. Miss Fisher and the Inspector are going up to the Dandenongs for the afternoon.”  
Bert and Cec grinned at each other, and Bert nudged Cec. “Sure it’s a picnic and not a siesta?” he said in a low voice.  
Mr. Butler acted as if he had not heard, though the cabbies knew him well enough by now to be sure that he had. “So what are you packing?” Cec asked.  
“Oh, a variety of sandwiches, some side dishes, and biscuits, of course. And Miss Fisher specifically requested champagne as well as lemonade.”  
“Champagne!” Bert said. “Definitely a siesta.” Cec shrugged and grinned.  
Bert shook his head at the glorious bounty that was being packed in the basket. “Toffs,” he said.  
“The Inspector ain’t a toff,” Cec replied.  
“Doesn’t have to be. Not as long as he’s got Miss Fisher.”  
Mr. Butler said not a word, but was silently amused. It was clear to him that the Inspector would not have said that he’d “got” Miss Fisher, any more than Miss Fisher would admit to being “got”. It was equally clear to him that they were both “got”, whether they knew it or not. As he put the finishing touches to the basket, he directed the cabbies to some leftover biscuits to enjoy.

A short time later, Miss Fisher breezed in. “Hello, Bert! Hello, Cec! Oh, Mr. Butler, that looks heavenly.” She was dressed in what passed for “casual” for her—no particular jewels, furs or feathers for this afternoon trip; sacrifices must be made, if one wishes to spend an afternoon with a man who is serious about hiking. _A serious man,_ she thought to herself with a smile. _But not always._  
Phryne heard a knock at the door, right on time. “I’ll get it, Mr. Butler,” she sang, fairly skipping down the hall. She opened the door with a flourish. “Jack!” she greeted him cheerfully.  
Seeing she was alone, Jack answered, “Phryne.”  
She took his arm and drew him inside, and made a little twirl. “What do you think? Am I suitably dressed for a hike in the Dandenongs?”  
He looked over her outfit with a smile. “Yes, and yet still elegant.” Despite that seal of approval, he peered at her, puzzled. Something felt off-kilter. He sorted it out when he looked at her shoes. “Oh, well done—I wondered what it was.”  
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”  
“Your shoes. You’re missing a few inches of heels.” It was slightly startling to see how much shorter she appeared beside him without the three-inch heels she preferred.  
Phryne made a _moue_. “And I do miss them. But I was advised that these flat boots would serve me much better.”  
“And they will. Dare I ask who was doing the advising?”  
“Oh, a dashing fellow I spend a lot of time with these days…” She laughed at the somewhat disgruntled look this brought her. “Hugh, darling! He and Dot were both in on this.”  
“Aha. Remind me to thank him. And I’m sure you’ll thank him, too, when you see how much more comfortable these are for walking.”  
“I suppose…although some things are more important than comfort.”  
The Inspector opted out of answering. Discretion seemed the better part of valour; and it would take a valourous man indeed to question Miss Fisher’s sense of style. 

Phryne and Jack went to the kitchen, where Jack greeted the various occupants, all such familiar faces at Wardlow. Mr. Butler closed the lid of the picnic basket and Jack reached out for it. “Thank you, Mr. Butler.”  
Phryne took Jack’s other arm as Jack took the basket. “Goodbye, everyone! We’ll see you later this evening.”  
Jack added, “Not too late. Rain is expected, so we’ll want to be back in plenty of time.” They nodded to everyone and left through the kitchen door, strolling through the garden to the garage.  
Bert said plainly, “They’d better get that Hispano back before it rains! I wouldn’t want to be in a car like that in a storm, even if they put the top up.”  
“I’m sure they have thought of that,” Mr. Butler said with certainty. In fact, he doubted such a thought would ever cross Miss Fisher’s mind, but he was sure the Inspector would see to it. 

Jack put the basket in the back, and turned to see Phryne standing beside the driver’s seat, hesitating.  
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.  
Phryne made a face. “There’s an insect on the seat…”  
Jack looked—he had to search a bit to find it. “It’s not a spider.”  
She frowned and asked, “Could you just get rid of it, please?”  
He came around to her side, opened the car door, picked up the insect by one leg and tossed it out of the car. “All done.”  
Phryne sighed and said simply, “Thank you, Jack.”  
“It’s what you keep me around for, Miss Fisher,” he said offhandedly.  
She smirked. “It really isn’t.”  
He smirked back at her. “Would you like to know what I keep you around for?”  
She wouldn’t let him be one-up that easily. “Show me.”  
They were alone in the garage. So he did.  
Engaged as they were, it was easy to lose track of time, and so they were surprised when Bert knocked at the door. “Trouble with the car?”  
They moved apart quickly and Phryne said loudly, “No—everything’s fine—I thought there was a spider.” In the meantime, Jack pulled out a handkerchief and scrubbed at his face.  
“Oh. Sure. All right,” Bert said, with laughter in his voice. Once Jack was presentable, he went and opened the doors to the garage, shaking his head the whole time. When he did, he saw Bert standing just outside, with Cec behind him. “Spider, is it?” Bert said. “I’ll have to remember that one.” Jack gave him a quelling look, then called in to Miss Fisher, “Go ahead and back the car out. I’ll close the doors after you.” All three stepped to the side as she backed the car out. Jack closed the doors and fastened them, then got into the car. Phryne waved to the cabbies as she backed out and drove away.

It was a glorious day for a drive into the Dandenongs. The temperature was pleasant, the sun was bright, and nature seemed to be putting on its best show. They found a place to leave the car, gathered up the picnic basket and set out to explore. 

Phryne was delighted to discover that she enjoyed this kind of hiking. Jack was knowledgeable about the area and led them through many scenic spots, some of which were very secluded. Phryne made sure to take full advantage of the private moments in the beautiful countryside on this warm, lovely day. After an hour or so, they stopped at a scenic vista to sit and enjoy the meal Mr. Butler had prepared. They ate, they talked, they drank champagne, in this space that was not far from town but felt like another existence.  
It was pleasing to Phryne to see Jack looking so relaxed and refreshed, and she congratulated herself once again on having agreed to come when he suggested it. 

At last, the time came for their brief escape to end. Clouds had begun to take over the sky, so they knew they had better get back to the car. It took about an hour to reach the Hispano. They stowed all their picnic gear, and set out on the trip home. 

They had not been driving long when the car made a sort of coughing noise. It began to lose speed—not really a problem as far as Jack was concerned—and finally came to a halt.  
Phryne appeared to be completely confused.  
Jack could hardly help stating the obvious. “You appear to be out of petrol.”  
“I can’t be!” Phryne said. “Look! The gauge says it’s full!” She huffed in frustration when she looked back at him. “And what are you smiling at?”  
“We drove all the way up here, and now started back,” he said. “Didn’t it occur to you that the gauge shouldn’t say that it’s full?”  
“Oh!” He had her there, and she knew it. “I suppose I mostly notice when it says it’s low, not full.”  
Jack opened the door on his side of the car and got out. “I didn’t notice any place near here to fill up.”  
Phryne got out of the car as well and came to stand beside him. “I didn’t either. I wasn’t really paying attention when we drove up. I was more interested in our conversation.”  
Jack had a rather intriguing smile on his face. “What is it?” Phryne asked. “What are you smiling about now?”  
He looked vaguely guilty. “Oh—it’s nothing. Just a long-ago memory…of a vehicle breakdown.”  
“Jack. You know I’ll keep after you until you tell me.”  
“Oh, all right.” He knew it was true, so he gave in. “I was remembering a time before I was married. I drove Rosie way out to a scenic overlook. Once I found a nice private place to park, I had to explain to her that the car was overheating and we’d have to wait for it to cool down.”  
There had to be more. Phryne gave him an assessing look. “And _did_ it overheat?” she asked.  
He was all innocence, as he shrugged. “Well…as far as she knew…”  
“Jack! You devil!” Phryne laughed and took his arm. “It sounds like _something_ was overheated—or someone—at any rate. And just how long were the two of you trapped in this terrible situation?”  
“Probably not as long as you’d think. You may remember her father was my superior officer.”  
“Oh, yes.” She made a face. “Fathers certainly do have a way of taking the joy out of things.”  
As if to punctuate her thoughts, there was a crack of thunder nearby. The two suddenly realized it had become much darker than it would normally be at this time of day.  
“We’d better get the top up,” Jack said, springing into action.  
“I’ll get the other side,” Phryne said, hurrying to do so.  
The wind whipped around them as they pulled up the top and fastened it in place. They were just getting it secured when huge raindrops began to fall.  
“There! Quick, get in the back!” Phryne cried over the sound of the rain. She finished up and clambered into the back seat.  
Jack wondered what she was about, but finished fastening his side and climbed in the back as well.  
They both leaned back and took a deep breath, safe from the storm. “Why the back seat?” Jack asked.  
“It’s roomier,” Phryne explained. “We’re stuck in here for awhile, so we might as well make ourselves comfortable.”  
The storm was now in full force, but they were protected and had managed not to get too wet before they got into the car. There was little to do but sit back and be patient.  
They had just started to relax when Phryne gasped. Jack jumped. “What is it?”  
“It’s another insect! Like the one I saw when we were in the garage!” She shuddered against Jack.  
Jack patiently said, “All right. Where is it? I’ll get it for you.”  
“There.” He started to reach for it, but she stopped him. “Wait!”  
“What now?”  
“What are you going to do with it? It’s pouring outside, you can’t open the door.”  
He simply stared at her for a moment. “What do you want me to do with it? Swallow it? Crush it in my bare hands? Keep it in my pocket?”  
“You don’t have to be ridiculous.”  
“I—?” He stopped himself. “Phryne. I’m going to grab that insect, and I’m going to open the door very slightly, and throw it out.” Before she could argue, he did exactly that, in exactly that order. “Done.”  
Phryne had the sense to look embarrassed. “Thank you,” she said.  
“You’re welcome,” Jack said formally. “Now, relax. That’s quite a storm out there, and we’re not going anywhere.”  
“Fortunately, Mr. Butler packed enough food for a small army. Let’s eat supper while we wait for the storm to pass.”  
They ate their fill of the food in the basket with delight, and finished off the champagne as well. The rain went on and on, although the storm lessened somewhat.  
“We’re well and truly stuck, aren’t we?” Phryne observed.  
Jack nodded. “It would be dangerous enough to try to walk anywhere in the dark. With the rain it would be absurd.”  
“This is not,” Phryne said firmly, “the way I intended this evening to end.” 

It may not have been what Phryne had intended, but she and Jack managed to make the best of their situation. They had never yet run out of conversation, and this evening was no exception. They told stories, speculated on the lives of their many friends and acquaintances, and discussed some local politics. Eventually the combination of the exertion of the hiking and the constant sound of the rain on the roof of the car quieted them both.  
Phryne’s eyes grew heavy, and she leaned against Jack. She tried to settle in against him, but soon she found herself wiggling and wriggling. Roomy though it might be, the back seat was not designed for any of the activities she had in mind—even snuggling required more agility than she was used to. It didn’t help that her companion was so blasted amused by all her gyrations.  
“You’re really no help, you know,” Phryne glared.  
“I know,” he said consolingly. He twisted himself around a bit, leaning against the door as much as against the seat, then opened his arms. “Come here.”  
Phryne moved happily into his embrace. “Oh, that’s much better!” she said gratefully. She relaxed against him, then said pertly, “I suppose I’d better not ask how you know so much about getting comfortable in the back seat of a car.”  
He shook his head. “Better not.” 

She curled up against his shoulder, and they were quiet…for a moment.  
Phryne twisted her head to look up at Jack.  
“Jack? There wouldn’t be spiders here, would there?”  
“ _Spiders?_ In the car?”  
“If those other insects could get in, spiders could get in, couldn’t they?”  
He knew he’d better respond carefully. “Have you ever found a spider in your car?”  
“No, but…it could happen. Do you think there are dangerous spiders here?”  
“No. Not at this altitude,” he answered quickly and authoritatively.  
“Oh. Good.”  
She laid her head back against his shoulder for a moment, then raised it again. “You’re lying about that, aren’t you?”  
“Lying is such a harsh word...”  
“Jack! I thought better of you.”  
“Well—I’ve never _seen_ one at this altitude, that I recall.”  
“Oh, dear!”  
“I will be gallant and stay up all night guarding you from spiders.”  
“Lying again, Jack?”  
“Yes. I’ll probably be asleep in 5 minutes.”  
“Oh, you’re no help at all!”  
“Phryne. There aren’t any spiders that you need to be afraid of in this car. Come on, go to sleep. It’s perfectly safe.”  
He could feel her tension as she rested her head on his shoulder, but finally he felt her relax against him. 

Birdsong very near the window of the car woke them both. Sun poured in through the windows: it seemed that the very sky had been wiped clean. The couple in the back seat sat up and shook themselves awake.  
“Well, Jack, we made it through the night.”  
“And nary a spider in sight.” He laughed, but Phryne shivered. Jack continued, “It occurred to me to walk my fingers up your back, but I thought better of it.”  
She gazed up at him. “No point in doing that, Inspector. I was already as close as I could be.”  
“Yes.” He laughed at the memory of the day he teased her after the deadly spider was found. “Besides, it could hardly be as effective a second time.”  
Phryne said with a knowing grin, “You know…I always knew that wasn’t a spider.”  
“What?” he asked, unbelieving.  
“It’s true,” she insisted.  
“You didn’t know!” he scoffed. “Why, you leaped right into my…” He peered at her.  
She did not bother to explain. He really was catching on quickly these days.

The Hispano was not designed with overnight stays in mind. Its occupants were anxious to get out of the car and move and stretch, and they did, with gusto. They breakfasted on some bread that they had been wise enough to save from the night before. Everything in sight was bright and clear, as if it had been rinsed and polished. The ground was damp, but would not be a problem since the two wore hiking shoes.  
“I’m afraid you’d better lock up the Hispano, and we’d better start walking,” Jack said.  
“It was pleasant walking yesterday,” Phryne said.  
“Yes. This won’t have quite the carefree feeling that our hike had, though: we need to find a phone, or some petrol, or some way to get off this mountain.”  
They took care of the car, and began to walk. It was still a pleasure, and Phryne took Jack’s hand and swung it as they hiked along. After half an hour had passed, they heard the sound of horses and a wagon coming from behind them. When it came into view, they waved, and the farmer driving the horses stopped to talk.  
“Can you help us? Our car is out of fuel,” Jack said to the farmer.  
“Big fancy red car?” the farmer asked.  
Phryne nodded enthusiastically.  
“Saw it back there. I can give you a ride, but you’ll have to sit in back. It’s perfectly clean hay,” the farmer assured them, noticing that they wore what looked to him like a fancy city notion of what to wear outside. The couple thanked him and went around to the rear. Jack made a “step” with his hands for Phryne to put one foot into, and helped her into the haywagon. He barely had time to get in, himself, before he heard the farmer tell the horses to move along, and he launched himself into the hay.  
Phryne sighed. “This certainly isn’t like anything I could have imagined. I wonder how long it will be before we get to a place to call for help?”  
They rode along, in the morning air, with the sun still comfortably low in the sky. The farmer steered the horses and wagon to the side of the road, and soon Jack and Phryne could see that he was making room for a car to go past. As it came alongside, they recognized the cab as well as the cabbies.  
“Oi! Whoa! Stop!” Phryne howled, standing up in the wagon and almost losing her balance. The farmer didn’t seem to be paying any attention as he tried to guide the horses and wagon back into the middle of the road. Jack and Phryne looked at each other; then, without a word, they clasped hands and hopped off the back of the haywagon.  
They started walking back toward the Hispano, but hadn’t gone far before they were met by Bert and Cec, returning for them. The cabbies parked the cab and got out to meet Miss Fisher and the Inspector. “Good luck that you were on the main road,” Bert explained. “Cec insisted he saw you in that haywagon.”  
“We’re very grateful you did, Cec,” Phryne said sincerely. “That was quite a ride, but I don’t mind leaving it when we did.”  
“Is something wrong with the Hispano, Miss?” Cec asked with concern.  
Phryne tried not to acknowledge Jack’s smirks; he turned aside as she explained nonchalantly, “No, nothing that a can of petrol won’t fix.” She was met by smirks on two more faces, but she refused to let them bother her. “There’s something wrong with the gauge.”  
“Why don’t we get you and the Inspector back to town, and then we can come back with some petrol?” Bert suggested.  
“An excellent idea,” Jack noted, and Phryne agreed. She pivoted and headed for the back door of the cab.  
It was fortunate that she had turned away from Jack, for two reasons. First, it prevented her from seeing the looks of shock on his face and those of the cabbies; and second, if she hadn’t turned, Jack would never have seen the Victorian funnel-web on the back of her coat. Without a word, Jack stepped up close to her and batted the spider away as stealthily as possible—but all for naught. Phryne turned on him.  
“Jack! What on earth! I told you I knew that was a prank!” Phryne said testily.  
It only took him a beat to answer. “You’re right. Silly of me to try it again.”  
She shook her head and thought to herself that even the best of men seemed to revert to irritating boys from time to time. She opened the cab door and got in.  
Jack went around to the other side of the cab, but not before he noticed the wondering looks on the faces of the cabbies. He gave them a look that they could not misunderstand, and although they didn’t see why he didn’t want them to tell her, they kept their mouths shut—at least, for the time being.

When at last they reached Wardlow, Miss Fisher stretched and said, “I can’t wait to get out of these clothes and get cleaned up!” She looked at Jack, and said, “I suppose you’ll want to do the same?”  
Jack nodded. “Yes. And I’d better go over to the station for awhile.”  
Phryne had expected no less, but frowned anyway. “Even on a Sunday, Jack?”  
“Crime doesn’t take a day off…and paperwork doesn’t either.”  
Phryne gazed up at him through her remarkable lashes. “But you could come by later, couldn’t you? For dinner?”  
He nodded slightly, pleased. “Yes. I’ll look forward to it.”  
She smiled, happy with his answer, and said, “So will I,” before she headed up the stairs. Surely she could engineer _this_ evening to end the way she intended. 

Jack went back through to the kitchen, intending to leave quietly, but Bert and Cec had other ideas.  
“All right, Miss Fisher’s upstairs,” Bert said _sotto voce_. “Why didn’t you tell her?”  
Mr. Butler was perplexed, and Bert and Cec fell all over each other explaining. “Miss Fisher had a big old trapdoor spider on her back!” Bert asserted mistakenly.  
“And you know how she is about spiders,” said Cec.  
“And the Inspector knocked it off her back,” Bert added.  
“And Miss Fisher thought it was a joke,” Cec said.  
“And the Inspector wouldn’t let us tell her,” Bert finished.  
Mr. Butler was nonplussed but fascinated by all this information. He glanced toward the Inspector, who was bemused by the cabbies’ performance. “It wasn’t a trapdoor spider. And it wasn’t dangerous. And she doesn’t need to know,” the Inspector maintained.  
Bert gave him a man-to-man look. “You’re passing up a chance to be a hero,” he said. “Sheilas go for that.”  
Jack smiled his bit of a smile. “Miss Fisher doesn’t need a hero,” he said. “From what she’s told me, her life has been scattered with heroes. I don’t think I want to compete with that. But—maybe—she can use someone to chase away her spiders.”  
That was about as much discussion of his relationship to Miss Fisher as the Inspector could bear, so he nodded and said, “Gentlemen,” and left through the kitchen door into the garden.

Bert scratched his head. “I still don’t get it. It don’t make sense.” He rolled his eyes. “Toffs,” he said.  
“The Inspector ain’t a toff,” Cec insisted.  
Mr. Butler smiled again. The Inspector wasn’t a toff. He wasn’t a lot of things. And he didn’t consider himself to be a hero.  
It was ironic that he might be the first real one Miss Fisher had come across.


End file.
